Page 20 of Pitching for Keeps
When Greg talks about finding his teammate for life, Jay's lips quirk.
When Megan mentions that love means supporting each other's dreams, he looks directly at me.
When they exchange rings, his thumb rubs his own ring finger in that nervous gesture I remember.
And when the officiant says, "You may kiss the bride," and Greg dips Megan dramatically while everyone cheers, Jay catches my eye and winks.
We're in so much trouble.
The recessional is a blur of music and flower petals. Jay offers me his arm as we walk back down the aisle, and I take it, trying to ignore how right it feels.
"So, about that maybe," he murmurs as we walk.
"Still maybe," I whisper back.
"I can work with maybe."
"You have a road trip."
"Three games in Sacramento. Back Tuesday."
"That's a long time to wait for a maybe."
"Tracy, I waited five years. I can handle three days."
We reach the end of the aisle, and I have to let go of his arm as the wedding party disperses for cocktail hour photos.
"Go mingle," I tell him. "I have maid of honor duties."
"Yes, ma'am." He walks away, then turns back. "Hey Tracy? That maybe is looking more like a yes, right?"
I straighten his tie one more time, just because I can. "Ask me again on Tuesday."
His smile could power the entire reception. "Count on it."
As he joins the other groomsmen, Megan appears at my elbow.
"So," she says, beaming. "Still think you're being subtle?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Tracy, you fixed his tie three times."
"It was crooked!"
"You're humming 'Centerfield.'"
I stop humming. Again.
"This is the best wedding ever," she sighs happily. "My sister's in love, I'm married, and we're about to party. Could this day get any better?"
I think about Jay's promise to be back Tuesday, about maybe-dates and second chances and the way he still looks at me like I'm his lucky charm.
"Yeah," I say, squeezing her hand. "I think it could."
She hugs me tight. "Come on. Let's go celebrate. And maybe you can dance with a certain pitcher..."
"Megan—"
